Issue #67

April 20th, 2023

Featured Artwork by Roger Camp

View All Roger Camp's Artwork

Poetry Issue #67
By Mandy Shunnarah
Fiction Issue #67
By Lucy Zhang
Creative Nonfiction Issue #67
By Carolyn Pledge-Amaral

Letter from the Editors

Spring reflects the change in seasons, the shaping of the tide and the movement of animals and flowers in the wind. At times, Mud Season looks for these natural themes, while other times the human factor becomes our primary focus and view, ideally a good combination of the two. Our featured artist this issue is photographer Roger Camp with his Parisian mannequin photography portfolio. The mannequin represents a solid body frame, posturing and reminiscent of its human inspiration, yet eerie and uncanny. We hope these visual selections merge with our fiction, poetry, and creative pieces in Issue #67.

Our poetry portfolio by Mandy Shunnarah was carefully selected by our poetry staff because of the prominent voice that’s deliberate, but striking throughout the poems. “Nowadays we don’t walk on water, we just drown. / We’ll say it’s an optical illusion, the same as using a rifle / as a telescope to see targets instead of people,” the poet writes, forcing us to contemplate ongoing storms continuously happening before spring’s end.

Carolyn Pledge-Amaral wrote this issue’s creative nonfiction piece, which we’re proud to include this issue. When the author utilizes the Flintstones to touch upon a nostalgic past collectively shared by family members, that’s when popular culture meets literary memory. “It didn’t matter that we spent most of our lunch break walking in one direction or the other. It didn’t matter if it rained or snowed. What mattered was that we made haste so as not to miss our favorite lunchtime TV shows.”

The fiction selection this issue is “Final Molt” by Lucy Zhang, and we’re so glad this one was still available for acceptance. The tone and style are precise, full of bugs, nature, and revelations for not only our protagonist, but the readers as well. Zhang writes, “I ruin skin too—if I scratch hard enough, I accumulate enough white bits of skin cells under my nails that I can dig out a small, snowy mountain—my flaky remnants of a cocoon.”

May spring unearth new beginnings for you.

Best,
Rebecca & Ashley